


Smoke and Mirrors

by sprucetree



Category: Star Trek: Lower Decks (Cartoon)
Genre: (not really but it is close enough), Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Constructive Criticism Welcome, F/M, Freeman Ransom Tendi and Rutherford all briefly appear, Mirror Universe, less of a ship fic and more of a character study, mutual crushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprucetree/pseuds/sprucetree
Summary: After a strange occurrence, both Boimler and Mariner are transported to what seems like the Cerritos. However, the version of each other they come across is wildly different than the one they know.
Relationships: Brad Boimler & Beckett Mariner, Brad Boimler/Beckett Mariner
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Smoke and Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a very busy few weeks for me, but I wanted to finish this by the end of this month. And well, this turned out to not technically be Mirrorverse fic-- but I'm playing fast and loose with canon concepts for the sake of the story I was trying to get across. Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

The long hallway leading to the lower decks of the USS Cerritos was almost deserted, except for the two approaching ensigns interrupting the silence.

“Are you joking?” 

“Nope, I’m dead serious,” Boimler stated sardonically, turning to face her directly. To Mariner’s right, he kept pace with her steps. Dirt marks and long scratches covered both their uniforms, with a particularly long rip along his one sleeve. 

Rolling her eyes, she shot back, “Yeah, well, you’d _be_ dead if I wasn’t there.”

Boimler reached up to comb his fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth down the flyaways sticking up. Plucking out a small torn up leaf and bringing it down to examine at eye level, he muttered, “Doubtful. I had a phaser.”

She couldn’t help but shoot him a withering look, her annoyance growing by the second. “Oh sure, somehow I’m the bad guy here. Not only did I spot how shady that diplomat was acting-- and in record time, by the way-- but I also saved the lives of whoever the hell he was planning to kill! Why are you _always_ so whiny?” 

“Mariner…” He started to say, and then shook his head. “What happens when you guess wrong? Do you know the trouble we would be in if he _wasn’t_ a hired spy and you kicked in the face of the highest dignitary on a planet we’ve only visited _once_ before? Hell, forget about a court martial-- we’d be sliced in half by the armed guards’ axes before we could even begin to explain ourselves, because of your recklessness!” His voice got increasingly more anxious sounding with each sentence. “And at the very least, you could tell me before you do these things! Like, what the hell! I was standing right next to you, and you couldn’t even lean over and whisper that something was wrong? Do you expect me to read your mind?” 

Mariner gritted her teeth, stopping dead in her tracks to turn around and glare at him face to face. 

“Uh huh, sure, yeah, let me apologize! So _sorry_ for saving your ass, Boimler! Next time, I’ll just sit there and wait patiently while everyone gets chopped to pieces because _you_ didn’t get consulted in time. I’m sure that’ll be really fun to explain to the Captain. ‘Hey, why didn’t you stop an obvious threat you clearly saw?’ ‘Oh well, see, the world’s most annoying ensign wasn’t really _feeling included_.’” 

Boimler groaned, balling up his fists at his sides. “Come on, I do _not_ sound like that. And just-- that’s not what I’m saying! Honestly, I just… want you to think about the huge fallout if your gut isn’t right. If there’s an issue, it’s not only you that gets hurt.” 

She didn’t even want to dignify any of that potentially helpful but annoying criticism with a response, so she switched tactics entirely. “Ok, you know what your problem is? You’re way too damn cautious.” Mariner stood with her hands crossed over her chest, glaring him down. “Shit, show some spine once in a while. Just-- get _aggressive_ _,_ dude, instead of standing around talking. Grab some collars or throw some punches or _something._ ”

He glared back at her. “Oh yeah, because you’re totally qualified to hand out career advice? I’m sure every time you’ve gotten thrown in the brig was just a big misunderstanding, somehow. Nothing to do with not being a team player. Just… if I were you, I’d seriously be rethinking the whole ‘jump in feet first’ thing. The one time it doesn’t work will be the last time.” 

She made no move to reply, holding his gaze. After a few seconds, he finally sighed and stepped around her to open the personal storage area to the right of his bed. Both of them silently got prepared to sleep, still fuming about the other one in the privacy of their own minds. The other returning ensigns milled around about them, blissfully unaware of any tension brewing. 

After switching into a tank top, Mariner jumped up to her bunk bed first, using the small area between the storage compartments as a foothold to boost herself up. Glancing down, she saw Boimler standing below in his undershirt, examining the scratches down the front of his uniform he held in both his hands. Then, she saw him roll his eyes and then lay it down flat on the bed to fold into a neat square. Ripped sleeves and all. 

“Boimler, we can get new ones. Literally, we can get them instantly,” Mariner groaned, dragging her hands down her face. She had a feeling his overly pedantic attitude about the ripped uniform was just another passive aggressive way to make his point about her supposed recklessness. “Why are you like this?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he shot back, not looking up. 

“Listen, you just--” She paused to collect herself before continuing. “You seriously irritate me sometimes.”

“Trust me, I could say the same about you,” he muttered in reply, roughly pulling the neatly folded blankets off the lower of the two bunk beds and curling them around his back as he laid down on the mattress. “Good night,” he stated icily. 

Although he couldn’t see it, she rolled her eyes; she wasn’t in the mood for the rote nighttime exchanges they usually did, since they were bunkmates and all. Even considering being all fake and polite right now only irritated her more.

So, Mariner didn’t reply, but instead yanked her boots off. Without looking where they landed, she dropped them unceremoniously over the edge of the top bunk into the floor below. She heard a little sound of surprise come up from the bed underneath her.

“Oh, just shut up,” she hissed under her breath, head muffled into her pillow. She half-expected him to shoot back an annoyed reply, considering it was easy to hear every little cough and whisper from the person above or below you, but instead, he stayed silent. 

_Good,_ she thought spitefully.

Within seconds, her brow had unfurrowed and she was pulled deeper and deeper into the silent lull of sleep with soothing hum of space rushing by them. 

* * *

“All scans clear, Ransom?”

“Looking good, Captain.”

Rounding her chair, Freeman put one hand on the nearest console and sighed. The Cerritos had already arrived at its destination, but extra precautions could never hurt. Sitting forward in his own chair, Ransom’s eyes were glued to the PADD in front of him. 

“The general sent us a full list of the visiting diplomats and their common greetings. I’m not sure exactly what ‘traditional Maltrissian wave’ is, but it’s listed for about three of them.” 

Stifling a groan, Freeman put a hand up to her forehead before responding out loud. Second contact missions could almost be more strenuous than first contact, not that any other captain she’d spoken to so far in her career would ever acknowledge that in so many words. 

_Perhaps that’s part of the reason_ why _it feels that way,_ she thought to herself with a particularly bitter pang of frustration. Then, trying to put the thought out of her head, she spoke up again. “Here, I’ll come over and look at it myself.”

Stepping down to where he was sitting and lifting the PADD up to her own eyes, she furrowed her brow as she scanned the list of oddly specific demands and detailed instructions. 

“I assume they expect us to bring the away team for the peace ceremony?” she questioned, reading further down the message. “If we can, let’s make sure to remind--”

“Captain!” 

A lieutenant standing near the front cried out in fear. Pointing toward the front, she started to rapidly speaking once again, saying, “There’s an unknown entity rapidly approaching! I-It just popped up out of nowhere!” 

Whipping her head up, Freeman gaped in horror as she saw what appeared to be a giant blanket of pale light gaining speed toward the bow of the ship-- slowly at first, but then progressively growing in size as it got closer. Instead of the wonderfully vibrant stars and occasional field of asteroids usually surrounding them, the entity seemed to be a pure solid white, unlike anything she had ever seen before. With a shudder, Freeman immediately turned to address the crew.

“Go to red--!”

Before she could even finish her sentence, the entire bridge was engulfed in a blinding white light.

* * *

_Seriously, all I want to do was make sure we both don't die. Why doesn’t she get that?_ Boimler thought as he drifted off, eyes squeezed shut.

Meanwhile, above him, Mariner frowned in her sleep. 

_I knew exactly what I was doing; I mean, come on, I’m not an idiot! So why the hell doesn’t he trust me?_

Just as sleep was about to overtake them both, a strange brightness shone through the lower decks. Then, before they could speak or even process the blinding light, the last thing either of them felt was what seemed to be a painfully solid kick to the back of their heads.

* * *

Boimler groaned once, wincing at the fresh stab of pain in the back of head. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, he could tell he was laying flat on his back. Taking a deep breath out, he opened his eyes as he tried to remember exactly what had happened just moments before.

Staring back at him was… Mariner. 

Or at least, a woman who certainly looked a lot like her. The only differences were the demure grin on her face and the way her curly hair had been styled into longer box braids, with her normally short bangs no longer covering her forehead. As he blinked once more, he noticed her uniform was buttoned all the way up, and strangely enough, her sleeves were rolled down to the correct length.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Boimler managed to stutter out in his confusion. “What--?”

Before he could continue his question, she was suddenly kneeling next to him, pulling him up to his feet with both her hands supporting his left shoulder. He complied wordlessly, feeling a bit overwhelmed at how gentle she was being. 

Even after he was standing soundly, she still stared back at him with the same serene smile she had on from the start. Tearing his eyes away in order to take in his surroundings more, he realized he was definitely on the Cerritos-- same walls, hallways, the whole ship seemed to be unchanged. At least whatever that sensation was hadn’t injured anyone, to his knowledge. However, that didn’t even begin to explain everything else unfolding in front of him.

Trying to not sound too frightened-- especially because the way she was looking at him with those unusually wide and trusting eyes made his cheeks start to feel warm-- he continued to speak. “Is there something wrong? There was this weird burst of light and the last thing I remember, I think I passed out or something. So, what’s… going on? Weren’t we all in the ensigns’ quarters? Are we under attack?” 

Instead of replying, she just shrugged, arms still looped around his. 

Immediately taken aback, Boimler wasn’t sure how to respond. “A-Alright…” 

_Strange. We were just arguing and now she’s… acting like this?_

However, he had to admit it wasn’t altogether unpleasant to have her standing so calmly next to him for once, without any roughhousing or taunts to ruin the moment. But there was a small voice in the back of his head screaming that something about this wasn’t right.

“Should we uh, go see the captain?” he ventured to ask tentatively.

Again, she gave him nothing but a noncommittal shrug. Totally lost as to how to reply, he broke eye contact and turned to scan the hallway. Completely empty. Where the hell was everyone? Were they at red alert? There weren’t any alarms or lights flashing in the hallway, so they must not be. 

_This is… huh._ Boimler had no clue what to think as he turned back to face her. In all the months he had served with her, he had never seen Mariner act like this. Even when distracted or exhausted, she _always_ had something to say-- whether it was what he wanted to hear at the moment or not. Of course, it pissed him off at times, but this… was something else entirely. Could this just be another one of her impromptu pranks? Had to be.

Narrowing his eyes, he stated, “Alright, Mariner, this was funny, but you’ve made your point. So, you know… cut it out.” 

“Cut what out?” Instead of her usual vibrant cadence, she almost sounded half-asleep. He cringed involuntarily, but quickly tried to play it off as a cough.

“I-- you-- well, all this.” 

Keeping her eyes on him, she slowly cocked her head. Still, no reply was given except for the same vacant stare.

Taking a deep breath in, Boimler began to realize just how screwed he was. She wasn’t faking; this was for real.

_What the hell is going on?_

* * *

The first thing Mariner heard was an oddly loud clang.

Snapping her eyes open, she stared at the ceiling of the Holodeck looking back down at her. Or, more specifically, the dark gray metal gymnasium ceiling, as dozens of tiny dust particles floated into her field of view. 

_Weird. This looks… familiar._

Sitting up-- as she tried to ignore the dull aching in the back of her skull that she couldn’t quite remember why she felt-- she immediately realized why. 

“Holy shit,” she muttered as she looked around. 

Someone had replicated a public gym, one that looked suspiciously like the one she had stored in her files long ago. Jumping to her feet, she suddenly heard a sound. Whipping her head around, she saw a figure in plank position on the ground, hands splayed out as he continued to do push-ups. The bottoms of his gray sneakered feet were facing her, but she couldn’t see his face.

Whoever this guy was, he was currently shirtless-- and wearing what looked like non-regulation black athletic pants, from what she could make out-- as well as clearly focused on his workout. Mariner stood for a few seconds just watching his strawberry blond hair rise and fall while he continued his reps without even a moment’s hesitation. Maybe he hadn’t noticed her. Something about the familiar curve of his shoulders vaguely reminded her of someone, but she was far too distracted at the minute to give it more than the most cursory amount of space in her mind. 

Slowly, with her hands on her hips, she sauntered over to where he was. 

Daring to reach down and place a palm on his shoulder when she was only a few inches away, she started to say in a low voice, “Well, hey there, who’re--?”

The man stopped mid-push up and, in one swift motion, got to his feet and drew himself up to his full height, which-- strangely enough-- left them looking directly into each other's eyes. 

Mariner’s jaw dropped. 

“What the hell, Boimler?!” 

_Oh no, there is no way this is happening right now. This is-- this has gotta be some kind of weird-ass mirror dimension or one of those aliens-take-over-your-mind things. Has to be. That light must be the reason… uh, somehow._

Even though he wasn’t ever a particularly tall or stocky person, his new muscles filled out his form nicely. More interestingly, he had a newfound confidence about him that was hard for her to decipher the exact source of. She could tell it wasn’t purely physical; instead, it was in the way he carried himself, the way he didn’t hesitate, the way his eyes passed right over her. 

She mindlessly tapped her fingers against her thigh. That last one didn’t feel so good, the more she thought about it.

As Mariner tried to collect her thoughts, Boimler-- or at least, the alien invader or whoever that had taken his form-- rolled his eyes and walked away, carelessly knocking her shoulder and sending her stumbling back a bit as he shoved past. Standing in stunned silence, she finally found her voice again after a few seconds.

“Alright, what the shit is going on? Dude, this is--” She shook her head, still processing the whole scene. And trying to avoid looking at him directly, for some reason she couldn’t quite figure out. “When did _this_ happen?” She jabbed her finger out and pointed up and down where he was standing. 

Meanwhile, Boimler had made his way to the nearest bench press and wordlessly thrown a water bottle towel into the ripped and frayed bag laying on it. Zipping it closed and tossing it over his shoulder, he snapped his fingers and in one fluid motion, the room turned back into the usual black and white-lined Holodeck layout. Mariner took it all in, growing more angry by the second. 

It was like he wasn’t even acknowledging her presence, even though he could clearly hear her speaking. She knew he had issues with listening to her, but it usually wasn’t this bad. At worst, he’d give her a snippy reply and do what he wanted to do anyway, which often backfired and caused him to come crawling back either way. But the way he was freezing her out like this felt… worse, somehow.

“Hey, dumbass, do you hear me? Hello? Stop!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, taking a step forward.

The only reply was the sound of the door automatically closing behind him.

* * *

The doors to the bridge opened with a short burst of steam, which did little to quell Boimler’s fears that this reality wasn’t all it seemed. Doing his best to suppress his worries, he scanned the room for any sign of an authority figure. Nothing. The only other person in the room was Mariner, who had taken to clinging to his arm like a life preserver. Her fingernails were digging into his forearms, a quirk that had quickly gone from endearing to annoying in the span of about five minutes. 

“Hey, um…” Boimler started to say, subtly trying to untangle himself while speaking as he held onto her right hand gently and unlaced it from his arm. “Do you want to maybe go check engineering to see who’s there?” 

The question earned him a small frown. But she didn’t say anything or make any move to leave the bridge.

Trying to stop himself from getting frustrated-- after all, she didn’t seem like she was doing this on purpose, from what he could tell-- he sighed. 

“Alright then, I guess… stay with me,” he muttered under his breath. Without looking down, he felt her snake her arm back around him. 

For the first time in a long time, he wished that she would do something wild-- yell, jump around, break something, or pull some sort of assorted contraband out of nowhere, just for the hell of it. Her current attitude was scaring him. It felt like he was drinking champagne that had been watered down a few too many times. And the weird part was he normally _liked_ watered-down champagne-- something Rutherford, Mariner, and even Tendi had teased him for occasionally-- but this wasn’t the same. Seeing Mariner act like this was just… depressing, somehow. It felt like she wasn’t even there. 

With a sigh, he started walking to the ready room. If Freeman wasn’t in there, he may as well just send out a distress call and see if any other ships were in the area. Maneuvering toward the entrance with Mariner in tow next to him, he skidded to a stop the second the doors swung open.

Standing in front of them was what looked like a giant robotic isolinear core piece, with multiple arms tentacling outward and one giant glowing helmet smackdab in the middle of it all. 

“Captain Fletcher, no!” Mariner cried out in distress. “W-We told him to not use that any more!”

Boimler’s voice shot up two octaves. “Captain _Fletcher_?!”

Almost as if in recognition of their words, the core glowed an even brighter purple, sending a bolt of fear through Boimler’s mind. But before he could turn around, he felt a sudden chill on his left arm and then a warm, solid hand shove him _hard_ into the path of the core. 

“Take him!” Mariner’s scared voice called out. 

And before he had enough time to process what just happened, the entity wrapped two of its robotic arms around his midsection. Boimler flinched in pain as it squeezed the dead center of his chest, applying a protracted wave of pressure all along his ribs and internal organs.

“Mariner--!”

As soon as the word left his mouth, another metal arm drew back and smacked him clean across the head with a resounding thud. Tasting blood, he managed to steady his head enough to glance at where Mariner was standing, a few feet away.

She had her hands drawn up to her chest, eyes wide and all innocent-looking. For some reason, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of despair come over him as he saw how she anxiously shuffled back from the room.

Thinking fast once he noticed the expression on her face, he realized there _was_ one way she could stop the core without putting herself in harm’s way. “W-Wait, we can disable it! Don’t go!” he called, trying desperately to look her in the eyes.

He barely had enough time to get the words out before he saw another claw whip out at him from the corner of his vision. Throwing his arms up just in time, he grasped onto the cold metal as it snapped forward towards him, stopping just inches from his face. With no hesitation, he pushed as hard as he could back, trying in vain to keep it as far away from his neck as possible. The palms of his hands stung from the impact, but he gritted his teeth and craned his neck to the left, knowing there was only one surefire way to stop it.

“Captain’s chair. Get the… main iso-- isolinear deactiv--” With a cough, he bit his tongue mid-explanation and stopped short, no longer able to speak any more at the moment. His head was feeling light. 

Letting out a pained groan, Boimler twisted in the robot’s grasp. His vision was starting to get dappled with black dots as the arms circled him tighter and tighter. With a raspy throat, he struggled to get a full breath in enough to speak once more. 

Out in the main bridge area, Mariner had backed even further away. Still, she didn’t make any move to touch any buttons. Meanwhile, the core loomed over him, flashing neon purple and red lights. 

“Oh-ho-ho, c’mon bro, square up!” it taunted him, its robotic voice mingled with the tone of his old friend.

Boimler felt his arms burn with the strength it took to keep the robot from tearing into him, but with each passing second, his resolve grew weaker and weaker as the core slowly made headway closer to his throat and squeezed his lungs even tighter. Shaking his head slightly, he turned around one final time and sucked in as much air as he could.

“Mar--” Hacking out a cough, he failed to get the word out before succumbing to the heady feeling of air loss.

As his vision faded, he couldn’t help but feel a stab of despair as he caught a glance of her back while she retreated further and further away from him, running away as fast as she could. 

Then, strangely enough, all he saw was bright white.

* * *

“Oh, yeah, go ahead. Be a dick. See if I care!”

Following close behind Boimler, Mariner crossed her arms. The two had been traveling down the corridor for a while now, but he still hadn’t said one word to her, no matter what she threw at him. 

“Something isn’t right here, and I’m going to figure it out,” she snapped. Glancing out the giant hallway windows to the swirling sky filled with stars outside, Mariner furrowed her brow. “Starting with why the hell you’re acting like this.” 

_And where exactly everyone else is,_ she thought but didn’t say out loud. As the thought appeared in her mind, she realized something. She hadn’t seen a single other Beta shift crew member since they set out on their walk. 

“Woah, wait, are you skipping a shift?” she asked, with a certain air of disbelief.

For the first time since they left the Holodeck, he turned to look directly at her, his dark eyes dripping with malice. 

“Who gives a shit?”

The tone of his voice made her shiver. Far from his usual snippy-- and occasionally haughty-- tone, he sounded downright… menacing.

Not to mention that, for some reason, that reply pissed her off more than anything else he had said so far. “You do! _You_ give a shit!” she yelled louder than before, throwing her hands out in front of her in frustration.

_This is just weird._

It was no secret to anyone that Boimler had a strangely intense affinity for his job, following rules to the letter, and all things boring and tedious, but she’d take his overly earnest enthusiasm in a heartbeat over this asshole who couldn’t even muster up enough respect to make eye contact. It didn’t matter how ripped he was, something about the way he acted too cool for everything-- including apparently talking to her-- made her skin crawl.

Instead of responding to her comment, he took the last bite out of the sandwich he had taken out of his bag. Crumpling the wrapper up with one hand, he flicked his wrist and sent it fluttering to the ground.

Giving the discarded plastic laying on the pristine floor a passing glance as she kept walking, Mariner narrowed her eyes at him. Something in her snapped. 

“That’s it.”

Picking up the pace and darting in front of him, she put a hand out and stopped him in his tracks. Glaring directly ahead, she firmly pushed him back a pace and held him where they were both standing as he took in what was happening. His face was so stoic that she had no clue what was running through his mind.

“Alright, dude, you need to tell me what’s going on here. Right _now_.” 

In an instant she saw his eyes darken, and before she could register what he was doing, the next thing she knew, she felt her back slam hard against the wall. 

Struggling to catch her breath as she found her footing, she realized what had happened-- he had twisted her arm around and used her own weight against her in order to throw her against the hallway corridor. Any and all respect she had for this version of him dissolved into thin air, which then crystalized into a cold, hard feeling of pure rage.

Gritting her teeth, she hissed her next words under her breath with more conviction than anything else she had said that day. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you are _not_ Boimler.” 

Without waiting for him to reply, she thrust her right hand forward with an open-palmed strike directly into his chin. In the split second between Boimler absorbing the blow and snapping back to attention, she broke out of his hold, bringing her knee back and driving it into his stomach, hard. 

He stumbled further back, clearly caught off guard. In a split second, she jumped directly in front of him, locking his right arm under hers while securing the grip with her second hand on top. Bending at the waist, she moved behind him enough to pin his arm tight against his back and then instinctively shoved him to the ground. 

The two sat in a standstill, tensely in the hold for a few heartbeats before he spoke again.

“Kimura lock,” he murmured between strained breaths. 

Mariner leaned forward, shifting her weight onto her knees. Instantly incensed, she exclaimed a bit more forcefully than needed, “What? Who the hell is that?”

“Not ‘who,’ ‘what,’” he continued with more than a hint of smugness. Through her hold, she could see the corners of his mouth curling up into a chilling smile. “Ancient Earth fighting technique.” 

The mention was so odd that Mariner paused for a second. The name itself didn’t ring a bell, but her memory was so full of simulations and classes her parents simply _insisted_ she suffer through in order to be able to defend herself that they all eventually ran together. From their perspective, it made complete sense: after all, a future captain needs to be safe and in control at all times. But from a ten year old’s point of view, it was just another extracurricular activity she dreaded attending every week. 

And for some reason, the fact he had the gall to talk to her so nonchalantly during all this made her even more angry. “Oh? You learn that from one of your books?” she shot back. 

For a second, he didn’t move. Then, with a short grunt, he pressed his free hand flat against the ground and bent his elbow into the position he would use for a push-up. Astonishingly-- and to Mariner’s horror-- with a bit of effort, he began to lift not only himself but also Mariner, who was currently resting on his back, up in the air. 

_Shitshitshitshit,_ Mariner thought in a blind panic. 

She tried desperately to reach down and redouble her hold in order to maintain control, but it was too late.

With a final grunt, the two broke free and rolled opposite ways. Recovering as quickly as she could, Mariner jumped up with her fists raised. Without missing a beat, he rushed towards her with a right hook she only narrowly dodged in time.

Stumbling back, she bent down slightly and tried to sweep his legs before dodging his advances once again. However, she was just a second too late. Boimler rushed forward, taking advantage of her instant of hesitation, and pinned her in a headlock

Leaning forward close enough to whisper, he corrected with a hint of amusement, “I don’t read. I learn by doing.” 

In response, she gritted her teeth and reached up to try to grab a handful of hair in a last-ditch effort to fight him off. Her efforts were in vain; he had already planned for that and was twisting and evading so he was just out of her reach while still maintaining his grip on her upper body. Gathering her strength, Mariner tried one last time, doing her best to push with her feet in order to get a better hit. 

Instead of being intimidated by this, he just laughed, still able to deftly dodge her grasp even with the added force. As he continued to apply pressure to her neck while spots danced at the edge of her vision, she saw his eyes drift up to the window next to them and then suddenly stop and widen as he took in something occurring outside.

“What…” she heard him mutter under his breath, sounding downright nervous. 

His odd reaction made Mariner whip her head toward the window. To her infinite surprise, she saw the black expanse of space outside was slowly being enveloped in what seemed to be an endless white blanket, approaching the Cerritos quicker and quicker as each second passed.

_The explosion from earlier!_

“Oh, what the fu--!” was all she had time to shout before all she saw was white.

* * *

Mariner gasped, sitting straight up in bed.

Her hands flew to her throat, then her chest, then her head. After a quick pat-down, she realized she was totally fine. But the blankets around her were warmer than usual, and she could tell she was sweating even without looking in a mirror. 

Then, she heard an equally distraught-sounding cry come from directly below her. 

_Boimler._

Swinging her legs over the bed and dropping down without another thought, the second she hit the ground she held one fist out and bent at the knees. Thankfully, the sight that greeted her made her instantly relax. Instead of the odd Boimler from her nightmare-- after all, that had to be a nightmare, right?-- she saw her friend, all disheveled bedhead hair and wide eyes staring back at her.

“It’s you!” she exclaimed in a gasp, unashamed of how loud the words came out. 

A look of recognition passed over his face, and then he, too, was smiling widely. “Mariner!” 

Lurching forward, she threw her arms around him and he immediately returned the gesture, the both of them just enjoying the simple reality of the other one’s presence. 

“You're alright,” she heard him mumble into her hair as he looped his arms even tighter around her.

“Alright? Yeah, of course I am,” she replied wryly, chuckling a bit at his strange choice of words. But she didn’t question it too much. It was just nice enough to see him not act all aggressive and weird-- instead, she was sure this was her dorky, regular Boimler. Her shoulder relaxed. 

Suddenly, she felt him tense up in her grip. “Oh, u-uh, yeah. I don’t know why I said that.” 

And just like that, the moment was gone. The two of them unceremoniously yanked away from the embrace, with one final awkward clasp on the shoulder from Mariner, who quickly got to her feet and stood back up in order to avoid looking at him in the eyes. It was only then that they both realized the commotion going on around them.

Various ensigns were roaming around in confusion, some still sitting in bed holding their heads or shouting across the hall. Behind them, Tendi and Rutherford were standing with each of their arms crossed, discussing something with concerned looks on their faces. When Mariner locked eyes with them both, they came rushing over, barely avoiding an Andorian who was rubbing his temple and trying to make his way to the opposite row of the bunks.

“Hey, um you guys, do you have any clue what _that_ was?” Rutherford interjected without a pause. He had one hand resting on his implant and another one hanging limply at his side.

“What do you mean? Did you both have a weird nightmare too?” Mariner asked, furrowing her eyebrows. 

Tendi nodded furiously. “Yeah! I was back on Orion with my family, and--” She suddenly cut abruptly herself off, looking down at the floor. “Just-- uh, stuff was… strange.” 

To her right, Rutherford gave her a nervous glance but didn’t make any move to interrupt. 

Then Tendi continued speaking, raising her hands up when she noticed the group get noticeably quieter. “Well! I mean, it started out nice. But then… everything seemed to get worse the longer it went on.”

“Woah. Same thing happened to me!” Rutherford’s eyes grew wide. “Except I was in the Tubes, having a fun time adjusting the conduits like normal, and then… something shadowy started attacking me. I kept trying to run away, but each hatch closed without any warning whenever I tried to hop out. And I was crawling and crawling and then…” He shuddered as his eyes scanned the ceiling. “I just remember there being fire and an explosion…?” 

Neither Boimler nor Mariner made any move to speak up about their own experience, both preferring to look off in separate directions. Next to Rutherford, Mariner quickly scanned the crowd and piped up again. “Ok, well, that just means there’s gotta be something going on here besides--”

Almost as if on cue, she heard the slight crackle of the ship’s loudspeaker and then her mother’s voice filling the hall.

“Attention, crew, we’ve just discovered that we just passed through some kind of unusual entity causing some complications. We-- uh well, it’ll be a bit before we figure out what exactly occurred, but until then, be on alert.” 

Around the four of them, the ensigns stared up to the ceiling and seemed to collectively glance at one another, equally perplexed by the events that just transpired but still not quite worried enough to let it interrupt their sleep any longer. After all, it was the lower decks; strange occurrences were just part of the job. Soon, most of them, including Tendi and Rutherford, drifted back to their beds with a quick parting.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mariner saw Boimler bring his hand up to his mouth and cough lightly. “Hey, uh, about earlier--”

“It’s cool, man. No worries,” Mariner cut him off, instantly knowing what he was going to say. “We were both kind of… under stress.” 

With a small smile growing on his face, he nodded once in agreement. 

But she couldn't resist leaning over and resting a hand on his shoulder, adding, “For real though, you _gotta_ make sure to learn how to identify a shapeshifter. You’d get left high and dry if I wasn’t there, Boims.” 

With an only mildly exasperated sigh, Boimler shrugged her hand off. Sitting on his bed, he muttered, “Yeah, yeah.” But she could see he wasn’t frowning at the ribbing-- in fact, it looked like he was stifling a laugh of his own, hidden from her gaze by the top of his head.

After readjusting her ponytail, Mariner hopped up once again to the top bunk. Swinging her feet over the edge, she settled under the covers.

“Good night.” 

The words traveled down this time, to where Boimler was laying in his own bunk.

Although she couldn’t see, he was grinning. 

“Good night.”


End file.
